The Fix (Carolina Connections #1) (4 page)

“That’s
a really good idea. I will definitely talk to him about it.” I switched hands
so the other cheek could get in on the action.

“Okay,
good.”

“And
thank you for calling about this, Mellie. It’s reassuring to know that you guys
are looking out for the kids so carefully.” I truly did appreciate it even if
this particular phone call added one more turd on the shit sandwich that was my
motherhood resumé.

“Of
course. You have a great night, Laney, and we’ll see you and Rocco tomorrow!” she
finished brightly, proving once again that people who work in daycare are born
with a different set of genes than the rest of us.

Keep Calm and Go Irish

Nate

“Lookin’
good, old man!” I said to my father whom I’d just found sitting in his favorite
black leather recliner. It was the first time I’d seen him in regular clothes
instead of pajamas since the heart attack and he seemed to have a bit more
color, I was relieved to see. It had been two weeks since I’d gotten back to
town and almost a week since I’d been back to my folks’ house. Work was a shit
storm and I’d been doing my best not to bother my dad any more than necessary,
but it had been nearly impossible to decipher whatever organizational puzzle he
worked by, and Bailey and I had been having a hell of a time keeping our heads
above water. Not that we would ever tell
him
that.

Remote
in hand, he paused the football game we were going to watch together and turned
to me with a hopeful expression. “For the love of God, please tell me you
brought something to eat that doesn’t taste like cardboard,” he pleaded. It was
no secret that my mom’s cooking wasn’t stellar on a good day, so I could only
imagine what it tasted like with all the salt removed.

“Sorry,”
I held my hands up to show they were empty. “Mom only let me visit on the
condition that I brought nothing into the house that you might find even
remotely edible. I got a TSA pat-down from her in the foyer.”

“Eh,
I figured as much,” he responded. “Distract me, then. Tell me what’s going on
at work. Did Mark get that permit squared away? I’ve got the number of that guy
at the–”

“All
taken care of,” I interrupted.

“Yeah,
but we’ll be in deep shit if every ‘i’ isn’t dotted on that one,” he insisted.

“I
know. Mark and Doug have both been a big help and Bailey knows a lot more than
she led us to believe so we’re handling it. I promise we’ll keep you in the
loop and let you know if we need help. I’ve already called you a dozen times
with questions and I may be permanently banned from the house if Mom catches us
talking shop,” I warned. “That was another condition for my visit. She should
consider a stint with the Secret Service if this whole retirement thing doesn’t
work out. Was she such a ball-buster with her students? If so, I’m starting to worry
about what may have actually been in all those homemade cookies they used to
send home with her.” That got a smile out of him.

“Your
mother’s a saint.” He un-paused the game.

“Yeah,
I know. What’s the score? Are we winning yet?”

He
gave me a disgusted look. “Of course we’re winning. We’re the Irish.”

At
halftime I went in search of my mom and some doctor-approved refreshments. I
spotted her at the kitchen table swiping at her iPad.

“Hey
Mom.”

She
held up her hand as if to stop me while her eyes stayed on the tablet. “Nathan,
don’t even think about asking for a beer. Your dad cannot have alcohol no
matter what kind of pathetic faces he tries to make.”

I
grinned and went over to kiss the top of her head. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I
reassured. “What are you reading?”

“Oh,
just looking for some healthy recipe ideas. Nothing I’ve made so far has been a
hit and I never realized how much sodium is in pre-packaged food. It’s
ridiculous!”

She
removed her reading glasses and shifted her attention my way. “Sorry – enough
of that. I want to hear about you. How are you, Nate? Are you and Bailey
hanging in there?”

“By
our fingernails, but yeah, we’re doing fine. Don’t worry.”

“Anything
I can do to help?” She tilted her blond head.

“Sure.
You can get one of those stupid ‘Hang in There’ cat posters and give it to Bay
– it’ll be hilarious to watch her try to be polite when she opens it.” I
smiled.

She
slapped the back of my hand and scoffed, “Don’t torture your sister.”

“I’ll
consider it. I suppose it
would
free up some time in my schedule.”

Her
hand went to my arm more gently this time. “I know your dad can’t say it yet,
but you need to know that we both appreciate so much that you came home to take
over.” Okay, I guess it was time for the serious portion of the visit. “It’s no
secret that this wasn’t your plan, at least not yet, so I wanted to say thank
you again. I don’t know what we would do without you.” She started to tear up.

“Whoa,
whoa – no need to get all mushy. You know I’m happy to do it. And besides, I’m
not
really
taking over. Dad will be back when he’s feeling better.” She
scowled at me so I hurried on, “I mean, I know it won’t be full time like
before, but still.”

My
mother shifted in her chair. “I know. There is no way he’ll give up the
business completely but you know your dad doesn’t do things by half measure.
I’m just afraid he’ll gradually ramp things up until we’re right back where we
started and we may not be so lucky next time.” She had a point. “So that’s why
we need to use this recovery time to find him some hobbies.”

Say
what?

“The
doctor said there are plenty of activities he can do that are great for keeping
blood pressure down and can be quite engaging. I’m hoping if he becomes interested
in something else he might not be so eager to dive back into the deep end.”

“Like
what?” I asked, picturing my dad playing croquet or painting tiny military figurines
with a little brush and a monocle. Inside my head I chuckled – outside I was
the picture of serious reflection.

“Oh,
you know, putting together jigsaw puzzles or collecting coins or stamps. Or
painting landscapes! There are all sorts of things.” Her excitement was
palpable.

Oh
wow. This was going to be fun.

***

“I’ve
got one,” Bailey howled. “We can get him some gardening clogs and a
subscription to
Home and Garden.
” Bailey and I were swapping new hobby
ideas for Dad between fits of hilarity, picturing the ultra-masculine force of
nature we knew as our father in an array of awkward scenarios. All of them
included our mom cheering on the sidelines. So far the best one involved the
Westminster Kennel Club and some dog trimming shears.

“You
cannot
tell Mom about this conversation,” I reiterated, sitting across
from her desk trying to school my features.

“Duh,
you shit-head,” came her clever response.

It
was Monday morning and we were supposed to be going over some bid paperwork for
an upcoming meeting with a potential client, but I could not resist sharing with
her our mom’s plan from the weekend.

“Oh,”
Bailey started, finally getting us back to business, “I forgot to tell you.
Doug called with some potentially troublesome news about the foreclosure
properties on Old Oak Ridge. It seems the neighbors are not taking too kindly
to having a commercial property in their midst. In his words, ‘Trouble is
a-brewin’.’”

I
waved her off. “Tell them to take it up with the zoning office. Everything is
in order on our end. If they don’t like it, tough. Tell them to move.”

“No,
dear brother of mine,
you
get to tell them all of that. Why do you think
I’m telling you? You’re going to be there anyway when the crew starts the tear
down on Thursday so there’s no need for little old me to butt in.” she smiled
sweetly.

“Thanks.”
I smiled back, a tad less sweetly.

***

Meetings
concluded for the day and all phone calls and e-mails returned, I finally walked
in the door of my apartment just after eight o’clock. I had done a grocery run
the night before so at least I knew there would be something to eat in the
fridge. And beer, thank Christ. As anticipated, I had yet to get my hands dirty
since I’d been back in town and it was making me irritable. I just needed a
night to sit on the couch, watch some TV and drink a beer.

Thankfully,
I now
had
a couch, which hadn’t been the case last week. I had decided
to temporarily rent a place until I had time to find a house or condo and
settle in more permanently. My mother, of course, had offered my old room.
Yeah, not gonna happen. And I would have considered staying temporarily with
Bailey but then I remembered that she was
Bailey
and I concluded that my
own place would be just fine.

Most
of my furnishings and belongings were in storage back in Austin where I’d been
living for the last two years. When I’d gotten the tearful call from my mom
about my dad I had just dropped everything and gotten on a plane. Luckily, a
job I’d been working was just wrapping up so I wasn’t leaving a bunch of loose
ends, but I still had two years’ worth of my life I just left hanging when I
came back to North Carolina.

Some
of my buddies back there kindly offered to move my stuff into storage for me and
I had to break my lease, but the landlord liked me and was a big-time family
man himself so he hadn’t penalized me like he could have. I’d helped him put a
deck on his house last summer and his wife was always giving me cookies and
stuff so we had a good relationship. I had several good relationships and a
pretty good life back in Austin. Truthfully, I was sad to leave.

After
watching the game with my dad this past weekend, I had moved a couch and a few
other old furnishings from their basement to the apartment. I figured it was
enough to tide me over until I found a new place and could get my things from Austin
moved permanently. Hopefully once things calmed down a bit, I’d have time to
search for a better place. This one was kind of a shithole, but it was cheap. And
for the moment I was content with borrowed furniture, beer and TV.

Halfway
into my IPA and an episode of
Ice Road Truckers
my cell phone rang. I
glanced at the screen.

Shit.
Reagan.

I
muted the TV and answered the call, “Hey Reagan, what’s up?”

“Nate!
Oh my God, it’s so good to hear your voice!”

“Yeah,
you too. What are you up to? How are things back in Hippie Haven?”

“They
suck without you, Nate. I miss you.”

And
that right there was what I’d been afraid of. It was the reason I’d avoided her
calls for the past week, although I kept promising myself I’d call back when
things lightened up. Reagan was a really nice girl. Honestly. The problem was
that she didn’t seem to feel quite the same about me. I suspected she didn’t
just think I was a
nice
guy – she thought I was
the
guy. And,
although she was nice and pretty hot, she was definitely not
the
girl.
Who even knew if any such girl was out there, but I knew for sure that Reagan
was not it.

We
had met at a bar a few months before I’d moved away and had been casually
seeing each other since,
casual
being the key word. I was very upfront
with her because the last thing any guy wants is girl drama. But then I started
noticing some big fucking red flags. She left some of her things at my
apartment and when I mentioned them she tried to laugh it off. And then I heard
one of her friends ask about her boyfriend and at first I thought,
oh shit,
is some guy gonna jump me for banging his girl?
Until I realized they had
been talking about me. I tried to back off and I even sat her down for a
conversation about it, but nothing stuck. I’d been planning to break the whole thing
off completely but then my dad’s heart attack hit and all hell broke loose.

“Aw,
that’s sweet.” I didn’t know how the hell else to respond. “Oh hey, I’ve been
meaning to thank you for sending those boxes. You really didn’t have to go to
all that trouble.” She had evidently shown up at my place while my buddies were
packing up my shit. She implied to them that I’d asked her to send some of my
clothes and personal items and she packed up a few boxes and sent them my way.
It was definitely nice to have some of my own stuff, no doubt, but the way in
which I’d received it signaled nothing but trouble.

“Of
course! I knew you’d want some of your things and I wanted to do something to
feel like I was helping out. How is your dad?”

See?
Really nice girl.

“He’s
doing a lot better, thanks.”

“Oh
good. So, listen, I was calling cuz I really wanted to hear your voice, but
also because I was thinking of coming out to see you…”

Christ
on a bike
, there it was.

“Oh,
Reagan, wow.”
Why didn’t I break things off before I left?
“Uh, that’s
really nice of you to think of me. The thing is…work is really crazy right now.”
Just tell her the truth, asshole!
“I mean, I’m working all sorts of late
hours and between that and checking on my folks…I don’t think now is the best
time,” I finished lamely like the big fucking coward I am.

“Oh.
Sure, I mean, I understand. It’s just, you know, I was thinking I could maybe
combine it with a trip to the beach too – you know, soak in some rays before
the summer is completely over and all that,” she tried again.